Lets Make a Drink to it
by zombiedog001
Summary: The painful creak of the saloon door came as an irritating announcement that yet another visitor was dropping in for a refreshing drink; or dropping in to drown out their worries and crimes.


**A/N: I've been addicted to Fallout lately and I tried to imagine what it would be like if my Lone Wanderer and my Courier character ever ran into each other. Of course, I had to change the names because... well I named myself some hilarious, yet inappropriate titles- not suitable for stories lol. Anyways, this is how I'd imagine their conversation run down. **

The painful creak of the saloon door came as an irritating announcement that yet another visitor was dropping in for a refreshing drink; or dropping in to drown out their worries and crimes. It wasn't uncommon to have all sorts of people step in as they traveled by but this one looked different.

Dark-brown hair was pulled back into a loose, high-fitting ponytail that ended in short curls; the seemingly long strands appeared clean despite the dusty, unforgiving Mojave desert outside. The woman had a long, slender form that only seemed to be accented by the multitude of belts that dressed and hung free from her waist; the rather long, sleeveless brown trench coat only seemed to accent her height just as well. The open neck piece of the coat cut down to reveal the sun-kissed and sun-abused skin before a dirty-white shirt was pulled up just enough to protect her cleavage from burning. Thick padding wrapped itself around her knees in the front and coated down her shins till thick, heavy-looking boots took over. Her slender, yet muscularly-fit biceps were bare while more wrappings and armor protected her more delicate forearms; a rather familiar-looking hunk of a device was strapped around her left wrist.

Yeah, so maybe she dressed just like every other person who walked in through those doors but… something still seemed different about her; there seemed to be a unique kind of aurora to her.

Something that practically screamed for a good shot of whiskey and an empty conversation.

That much she could provide.

The old, worn-down saloon floor shrieked with every step as any amount of weight seemed to cause the wood planks excruciating pain. Trudy always said she was going to fix them but there were always other repairs that were more important and took executive priority over some old squeaky boards- although it wouldn't hurt for the woman to oil the front door either. Eh, just minor details. As long as the drinks were strong and good, everything else could wait.

"Welcome to the Prospector Saloon of Goodsprings, how can I help ya, stranger?" Trudy questioned as she looked up from the glass she had been rubbing at for the past few minutes; determined to rid the glass of that last, stubborn spot at the bottom.

"Let me get a beer and a shot of Whiskey."

A predictable order.

"Of course, dear."

"Hey Trudy… let me get the same thing." Ida started; careful to catch the eye of the new visitor as she faintly swished herself back and around on the rickety bar stool underneath her.

"Honey, you've been sitting there for an hour and now you want to order something?" Trudy questioned; her tone sounding more like a teasing mother as she moved herself along the back of the bar to gather the drinks.

"I just wanted to make sure I made the right decision." she replied as she ran a hand through her chopped blonde locks; running her fingers through the curly, untamed strands. She gave herself room to stretch slightly, although making sure not to topple herself backwards off the stool in an embarrassing act. Giving a soft shake of her head, she watched as Trudy set down the beers and shot glasses before going back for the caramel-colored Whiskey bottle. "So… where you from, stranger?"

The woman glanced over to her and let an exhausted chuckle escape. "From a city far, far away from here."

"How far we talking? I mean, like Primm, Novac, that Nellis Air Force Base maybe or… well actually that's about all the towns we have around here that… aren't up in flames." Ida started. "We've got some outpost around here but you can't exactly live at those."

"You trying to be friendly or just interrogating people now?" Trudy remarked as she emptied the last of the bottle into the matching shot glasses.

"I'm just curious." she quickly defended.

"It's alright." the woman chuckled as she leaned in against the counter and wrapped her fingers around the neck of the beer. "I'm uh… I'm actually from the D.C. area."

"D.C. as in… like from the downtown casinos or something on the Vegas Strip?"

"No, I mean from Washington, D.C."

No wonder something looked different about the woman. All the way from Washington, D.C.? That was way on the other side of the map, right? The journey seemed near impossible during these times… "You know what, Trudy can you put both of these orders on my tab?" she started before she turned back to the newcomer. "Come on, let's go sit somewhere with a bit more privacy." grabbing both of her drinks, she pushed herself from the counter and slid off her seat before she headed towards one of the smaller tables in the back of the saloon. She glanced back to see the woman kind of hesitate for a moment before she slowly followed after her; nodding a thanks to Trudy before she left. "What? Not use to a little Vegas hospitality?"

"It's a long trip from one coast to the next; I almost got mugged three times before I set foot in this town, so hopefully you won't take it the wrong way when I don't exactly… expect hospitality." the woman replied as she set her drinks down on the rickety table and sat back in the equally unstable chair. "But I do appreciate the little things, so thank you."

"No problem, stranger- ah well, actually that's a little rude of me to carry on conversations without a proper introduction. The name's Ida."

"Clare." the woman nodded as she leaned back in her chair and propped one arm up on the slightly splintered back piece. "I'm guessing you're from around these parks then? You look like you've made yourself at home."

She chuckled briefly and pressed the open neck of the beer against her lips before she tilted it back for a quick drink. "Something like that… let's just say, Goodsprings has done wonders for my life."

"I can relate to that." Clare replied as she traced the rim of her shot glass with the flat of her fingertip. "There's always some little town out there that does a lot more than you would think in times like these." her voice trailed for a moment before she lifted the shot glass and downed in easily in one motion; wincing just slightly at the bitter strength of the Whiskey. "Ugh, alright well… why don't you tell me a little bit about yourself? I mean, I highly doubt that you treat every stranger that walks through the door like this."

"True… well I'm not entirely sure, I just got a different vibe about you and… apparently I was right. How long did it take you to hike from D.C. to here? What's it like over there anyways?" Ida questioned.

"Like a run-down, war-torn hellhole, which is what I expected." Clare shrugged. "A lot of the monuments are gone and those that remain are practically worshipped by anyone who still believes in peace and hope for the city. Not a lot of interesting things really. I'm sure Las Vegas is a lot more fun."

"New Vegas is just like it's old self; full of casinos and hookers; drugs and money." she nodded. "More robots though and a lot more security. But, if you overlook that, then it's pretty much the same."

"You know, I couldn't help but to notice the Pip-Boy on your wrist there… you from a Vegas vault?"

"This? Oh nah, I got it from Doc Mitchell; he said he didn't need it anymore and that I looked like I could put it to more use. Judging from the question though, I'm assuming that you were a vault baby before?"

Clare let out another soft chuckle. "Yeah… something like that."

"Do tell."

"What? I asked you first."

"Yeah but I was hoping you would have forgotten about that." Ida laughed as she took another short sip from her beer. "Alright, well I'll do a long story short here, so try to keep up. I was hired as a courier to deliver this package across the Mojave, unfortunately no one told me about the consequences that would follow with that mission. Next thing I know, my travels are cut short, someone shoots me in the head and then buries me alive to cover up the crime. When I finally get around to waking up someone tells me that a robot pulled me out of the shallow grave and brought me to Doc Mitchell's house; everyone around took me for being dead so it was a bit of a shock when I walked out of the place still in stable mental condition. After that, I went about on my travels to figure out what happened, doing a few favors on the side, and then all my clues lead me to the New Vegas Strip." she paused for a moment to refresh herself with another swig of beer. "That poor bastard Benny never saw me coming either… I don't regret what I put that motherfucker through."

A brief catch of silence seemed to drift from her drinking partner.

A low whistle escaped her lips as Clare gave a soft shake of her head. "That's fucked up."

"Did you see that graveyard coming in to Goodsprings?"

"The one with the sign?"

"Yep… that's the place that I 'rose from the dead' from; it's become a bit of a… tourist attraction now, which does good for the town when curious visitors drop by to sneak a peek at the would've been gravesite of the famous 'Courier.'" Ida remarked. "You know, I told myself that when my time does come, I would drag myself back to that gravesite and make an honest piece of the land."

"I take it you're kind of famous around here then?" Clare commented.

"Hmm… yeah, in some senses; it's kind of both good and bad, depending on what side you're standing on." Ida nodded. "But what about you? You look like you got a lot to say."

"Something like that." she agreed. "To be honest, I wasn't actually born in a vault, I was just brought in after my mother died and my father's project was shut down. The vault didn't necessarily want to accept us but since my father was a doctor and they were in desperate need for one, they allowed us to stay. There was always a sense of tension between us and the rest of the vault but my father tried not to let me dwell on it. Then, one day my father just left and… the entire vault went into a panic; next thing I know, I'm running for my life to escape the place because now the blame's been put on me for allowing the outside to invade the vault. The people I had grown up with were now my enemies… I had to do some things I regretted but in order to ensure my own survival, I did them without hesitation. After I became a part of the Wasteland, I wanted to find my father and try to understand why he left. It took me months, maybe a year to and along the way I made friends and enemies; I helped and destroyed towns. Needless to say, there wasn't a day that went by without some story about me broadcasted across the Wasteland. When I did find my father, he explained that he left because he had to finish his project; he had to finish what he and my mother started- this time, I was finally there to help him. We were almost done and… things went wrong. The Enclave showed up and tried to take over the project by force; my father wasn't going to let that happen, so he flooded the control room with radiation in an attempt to stop them. He ended up killing a few soldiers and himself in the process. In the end, I had to finish the project nearly by myself and enter the same radiate room, just about killed myself in the process; I'm still not entirely sure how I'm still alive… but since then, I've just been wondering about the Wasteland trying to fix what little I can."

A soft nod left her as she listened for the woman's story to end; slowly, she raised her beer just a bit. "A toast to dead women."

She chuckled and raised her bottle just the same. "A toast to the dead, indeed."


End file.
